Living in a Bubble
by Bear-Bell
Summary: Draco Malfoy is obsessed. Obsessed with protecting Harry Potter. Rewritten.
1. Chapter 1

**Annoying Note: I do not own Harry Potter. I'm not making money from this. Blah Blah Blah.  
**

Everyone knew that the Malfoys had power and money. It was kind of a hard point to miss. After all, Lucius Malfoy was the Minister's go-to guy. No, he wasn't the minister's go-to guy, he was everyone's go-to guy. No matter what the situation, no matter how dire the problem, Lucius Malfoy came out on top with a pocket full of gallions.

Narcissa was the perfect Malfoy wife. She played politics through her brunch parties and balls. She ensured her family's continued social power by playing host to nobility and royalty. She drank tea with powerful women. She had tea with women who played with their husbands like puppets, stringing them along and giving them allusions of real power. She was invited to every wedding and consulted on every proper wedding contract. Her power was social, rather than political.

Draco Malfoy was his father's son and his mother's boy. He knew how to manipulate his fellow students. He knew just what to say to his teachers. People saw him as he wished them to see him. His classmates saw him as shallow, vindictive and nothing more than a wealthy pure-blood nuisance. His enemies knew he wasn't to be trifled with. Every person who stepped out of line or got a little too close to his secrets saw got a nasty little taste of his true power. Draco's friends knew him though. Once let in on the secret, they saw his every move, his every twitch, and they wondered at his ability to manipulate without drawing the people around him into an elaborate game of cat and mouse. His friends said he was the greatest wizard in England.

They also said he was the most spoiled wizard in England.

Draco Malfoy got everything he wanted. When he was eleven-years-old, his parents built him a quidditch field. When he was twelve, they allowed him a snake-house next to the green-house. When he was thirteen, Draco re-open the stables and filled them with all sorts of four-legged creatures. When he was fourteen, his parents allowed him to move out of the North Wing, the family wing, and into the West Wing. They allowed him to make it his by building weapon and dueling rooms, as well as a private library just for him. At school, he manipulated himself into every position of power. First, he was simply a Prefect. Then, he was quidditch captain. Then, he finally allowed himself to pull ahead of Granger, making him first in class. No one said no to a party when Draco Malfoy was attending. Girls didn't say no to a date. Teachers didn't say no to a little special treatment, or access to a few choice books.

This is why people were so confused about the young man's attitude. Everyone knew he had money. Everyone knew he had blood. Many knew he had power, and a few knew he had the ability to control any situation. However, no one knew why Draco Malfoy was so unhappy. No one knew why nothing ever truly pleased the boy.

His parents tried everything. When Lucius' colleagues suggested he and his wife didn't spend enough time with the boy, the couple took pains to make sure they saw him often. When at a dinner party, a duchess suggested he might simply be spoiled, Narcissa denied her son the most mundane things. When he asked for a new broom, his parents said no. When he asked for season tickets to see his favorite team, they said no. However, Draco didn't so much as bat an eye. The first time his parents denied him something, he looked mildly surprised, then simply brushed it off. Every time after that, Draco showed no emotion at all.

Finally, his parents went to see a professional. After they explained the problem, the doctor interrogated each Malfoy before declaring he knew the source of the problem. He simply repeated their words back to them, shining a new light on the speech. Draco was a good boy, a very happy child. However, he was an unhappy teenager. His behavior had no harmful side effects at school, but he became restless and more demanding in the summer. The doctor concluded that Draco's problems lay within Hogwarts.

At first, his parents completely dismissed this idea. But as Draco's behavior continued, they became desperate. They approached Draco and informed him they had enrolled him in Beauxbatons for the upcoming year, and he would not be returning to Hogwarts. That was when they found out just how desperate the situation was.

Draco Malfoy lost control of his magic for the first time since he was six-years-old. He destroyed the entire East wing of the ancient Malfoy Manor; a surprising feat, considering the ancient dark magic which covered and protected the entire manor.

The Malfoy parents found that it was just as the doctor suspected: Draco's problems lay within Hogwarts Walls.

**Annoying Note: Okay, there's the intro. Boring and slow, I know, but please stick with me, here. And by stick with me, I mean Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Annoying Note: Okay, here's chapter two! Hope you like it!**

In truth, Draco's problems weren't within Hogwarts' Walls at all. In fact, at the moment when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were accusing Hogwarts of being an unstable environment for their son, Draco's real problem was grocery shopping somewhere in Surrey.

Harry Potter wasn't exactly the problem, either. Harry's safety was the problem.

Draco's life was always stressful. The summers were worse, though, because he could never simply look across the classroom and see Harry struggling to pay attention to a teacher.

Draco didn't bully his parents into buying him fancy new toys because he only wanted to show off his wealth and power. No, Draco needed distractions. However, nothing he ever did was distracting enough.

Brooms and Quidditch made Draco think of Harry zooming towards the ground at break-neck speed just so he could catch a tiny flying ball.

The terrarium reminded Draco of Harry standing not ten feet away from him, speaking in sibilant tones.

Sure, Draco loved the black-plumed hippogriff which was in the stall between the two Pegasus, but seeing the creature always reminded Draco of strange feelings and strange times. The family of unicorns near the doors of the stables hardly helped, either. Draco could never really even look at the mother unicorn without seeing silver blood and a ghoulish figure sweeping towards a shock-still Harry. The younger unicorns were better, but only just. They reminded Draco of Care of Magical Creatures. The unicorns only let a few boys touch them, and Draco's hand had fallen next to Harry's on the unicorn's back. Draco still remembered the excitement he felt at being so close to Harry without having to think up some nasty name that would embarrass Harry but not truly hurt the boy.

Then, there was the dueling hall. Draco hated that stupid training room. He hated that he had to learn to fight to protect Harry. He hated that Harry's problems exceeded a simple healing spell to patch up a stubbed toe or a cut finger.

Draco liked to tell himself that his obsession was created during those first few weeks of school, back when they were eleven-years-old. At the time, he had only been concerned about Harry's beautiful green eyes and why the hell he would choose Weasly and the mudblood over him.

Of course, he knew the real reason. He wasn't that much of an idiot. Those first two times he met Harry were complete blunders. It seemed like he panicked every time he saw Harry. When they stood beside each other while being fitted for robes, all Draco had seen was a cute boy who was far to skinny and way too endearing. Harry's green eyes were wide behind his glasses, viewing the shop in wonder. Draco emediatly wanted to make friends with the slight boy, maybe have him over to the mansion so Draco could stuff some food down the thin throat until Harry was the size a proper boy should be. He had made a fool of himself, rambling about things he didn't really care to talk about. Then, on the train, he saw Harry again. The only thing different about their second encounter was his knowledge of Harry's name. He had fucked that up as well. Draco and Weasley had met a few times before, and they had always hatted each other. He knew that the little prick didn't actually like Harry. Only Ginny Weasley and maybe The Twins had ever _really_ liked Harry. The lot of them were backstabbers and traitors.

Sadly, he could never find fault with the mudblood other than her muddy blood. She was loyal through-and-through, and she was the only one to ever really help Harry out. He could never hate her simply because of how many times she kept Harry from really killing himself.

It only took Draco a few months to figure out that Harry was almost romantically involved with the Grim Reaper. The unicorn incident was probably what made Draco snap. His reaction as well as Harry's reaction to the situation terrified him. Neither boy knew what to do. Neither boy knew how to react, and Draco hated that. He just sat by and watched the thing move towards Harry. After that night, Draco promised himself that he would never be in that situation again, and he would never allow Harry in that situation again. After that night, Draco changed. He took to avidly following Potter and looking after him. There was never a time when Draco was completely uninvolved with a situation.

By third year, Draco though of Harry as his. He had saved Harry's ass countless times. He was sure that if he went into a certain drawer in a certain cabinet behind a certain door in the Department of Mysteries, he would find that Harry owed him a life debt several times over. His certainty only grew as the years went by and he continued to help Harry.

By the time sixth year rolled around, Draco was kind of sick of it. He was getting sick of people hurting his Harry. He began proforming ancient dark spells and blood rituals to give Harry extra protection.

It worked. Harry's sudden lack of injury went unnoticed by most. Of course, Draco couldn't keep Harry completly out of trouble. Harry still spent plenty of time in the hospital wing. His injury's just weren't as severe.

Then, the Dark Lord attacked the school and Harry couldn't stay out of the bloody battle.

Draco knew his spells were what saved Harry from Voldemort. If Draco hadn't been out there covering Harry's back and taking spells for the boy, Harry would be dead.

Draco snapped when he saw Harry's limp body laying next to the remains of Voldemort. Harry was covered in Voldemort's blood. He was very pail and his breathing was uneven. He looked dead. He wasn't moving. At all. And when Draco touched his cheek, Harry felt cold like death. But then, when Draco pressed a hand over Harry's heart, he could feel the faint beat beneath his palm.

Draco's first urge was to sweep Harry into his arms and run for a healer.

He reached down and pulled Harry into his arms. He pushed his way through the bushes and out of the private alcove where Harry and Voldemort were dueling. The second Draco's eyes landed on the battle beyond the alcove, he immediately drew back. What had he been thinking? He didn't have a chance to get Harry to the castle. If someone didn't kill the two of them on purpose, they were sure to suffer from a few stray curses. And what if he actually managed to get Harry to the hospital? They would rip Harry out of his arms. They would lock him out of the infirmary and he would be blamed for Harry's injury's. And why should he give Harry back to them anyways? They didn't deserve Harry. They couldn't take care of Harry. The couldn't appreciate Harry.

All Draco wanted to do was keep Harry to himself. He wanted to put Harry in a large, comfortable jar and carry the boy everywhere and have him always.

Then, Draco remembered that he was a wizard, and if he wanted to put Harry in a jar, he very well could.

**Annoying Note: Well, there it is.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Annoying Note- Ack. This is the third time I've corrected and re-uploaded this chapter. When will the mistakes end?! Anyways, the first two chapters are pretty much the same, but I'm rewriting the story from here on out. Things need to go in a different direction.**

* * *

"Calm down this instant."

After years of conditioning, Harry knew better than to diobay that tone of voice. His heartbeat immediately slowed, his muscles relaxed, and his fingers released their white-knuckle grip on the quilt covering his body.

"Snape," Harry sighed in relief. His body sagged against the stone wall behind his bare back and his breath left him. "Where am I? This is a prison, isn't it? Did we loose?"

"I told you to calm down," Snape said as he moved towards Harry. "Lay back down- you shouldn't be exerting so much energy."

Snape leaned down and helped Harry lay back down.

"Am I hurt?" Harry asked as he allowed the professor to help him back into bed.

"You're weak," Snape snapped.

Harry knew that. He felt it. But why would be be weak if he wasn't hurt?

"Drink this," Snape commanded. He pushed a vial to Harry's lips, but the boy refused the drink.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A sleeping potion. You need more time," Snape said simply. Harry was fully prepared to consider Snape a threat. After all, Snape was the double spy. Dumbledore wouldn't put him in a room like this. Dumbledore wouldn't put him in a room that had no doors. Only Voldemort would put Harry in a tiny stone room with no doors and no windows.

But then, before Harry could tell Snape to fuck off, Snape spoke again. "Besides, I want to keep you drugged for as long as possible. I want your silence to last a while longer."

That was all Harry needed. When Snape put the vial to his lips, he gulped down the potion.

* * *

When Harry next woke up, he was in the exact same position. He was alone in the small room. He had gotten a good look at the room before Snape gave him the potion, and it had changed while he was asleep. However, it hadn't changed _that_ much. The ceilings were still low, and the walls still looked dusty. However, the chairs on the other side of the room had changed. The two chairs were no longer stiff, uncomfortable wood. Instead, they have been replaced by elegant overstuffed wing-back chairs. Then, there was the bed. Harry was laying on Egyptian cotton sheets and covered with a warm blanket. He glanced to the side of the bed and saw the pillows. They were the same thin pillows he saw the last time he was awake, but they were stacked neatly by his side.

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position, much as he had the first time he woke up. It was easier this time, though. He didn't have to force his limbs to move.

"You're awake."

Harry's heart sank as he saw Draco Malfoy floating up through the floor, his body moving in jerks as if he was taking steps or climbing a ladder.

Harry backed into the corner, feeling trapped. Harry _was_ trapped. He made the wrong decision in trusting Snape. Death Eaters had him. Harry hadn't succeed in killing Voldemort. The ass-hole was still alive and Harry was being help prisoner by Death Eaters and...

Then why wasn't he dead? Would they really be stupid enough to let him live?

"Why are you here?" Harry asked, pulling the quilt tight around his bare chest.

"I brought you breakfast," the boy told Harry. He held up a tray hosting a bowl of steaming oatmeal and crisp buttered toast. Malfoy put the tray over Harry's legs, then took one of the thin pillows from the pile next to the mattress and made himself comfortable on the floor next to Harry. Harry blinked, startled. He had seen Malfoy covered in mud and flat on his ass, but those were at quidditch games or Care of Magical Creatures. Harry had never, not once, seen Draco Malfoy even suggest sitting on the ground, pillow or no pillow.

"What's going on? Are you a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

Malfoy smirked, his lips stretching into a wide, cool smile. "Of course not."

"Then why am I in a prison?" Harry accused.

Malfoy glanced around the tiny stone room, then looked back at Harry.

"I'm hiding you from the Ministry and Dumbledore. They've completely evacuated Malfoy Manor, so Snape is letting me keep you here until we can go home. Of course, the Ministry is snooping through his home, as well, so we can't allow you to stay in one of the more plush rooms. It will only be for another week or so, and then I'll take you to Malfoy Manor. Mother and father had to flee the country, so it will be ours for the summer."

Malfoy said "ours." For the summer. Harry felt a deep unease settle in his gut. This didn't sound right. Nothing sounded right. So what if Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater. Harry wasn't supposed to be in this situation.

"Is he dead, then?" Harry asked.

Malfoy's expression darkened. "Yes."

"And the Death Eaters?" Harry pressed. "Have they been caught or-"

"It's not your problem," Malfoy snapped. "It's the Ministry's problem. You're not an aurror. It's not your job."

Harry blinked at the outburst. He was far too confused to linger on the words, so he asked his next question. "Why do you have me? Shouldn't I be at Hogwarts?"

Now, Malfoy grinned. "I kidnapped you off of the battlefield. I would have given you back, you see, except it's far safer for you to be out of the public eye and out of Dumbledore's hands. Who knows what they would be demanding of you if I hadn't saved you."

Harry's only response was a dumb stare.

**Annoying Note- Okay. There is the new chapter three. It's not very long, but whatever. Review. I'll try to have more up soon. Review.**


End file.
